


Why Racetrack Higgins Should Learn To Think Things Through

by writeitininkorinblood



Series: Why Little Sisters Are Definitely Evil [3]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 19:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5597860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeitininkorinblood/pseuds/writeitininkorinblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In hindsight, letting Spot sign a birthday card that was being sent to a house in which people who could not under any circumstances know Race was gay lived, was a bad idea...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Racetrack Higgins Should Learn To Think Things Through

**Author's Note:**

> The title sucks, I'm sorry.  
> I promise I only have one more fic after this one that had Sofia in it...  
> Hope everyone had a great Christmas and has a wonderful 2016!

Race hated it when his phone rang. Most people he knew texted him, so a call either meant bad news or someone trying to sell him double glazing. He was interested in hearing neither about new windows nor bad news, so he rarely answered unless he got a few repeated calls from the same number in quick succession. If someone wanted to get in touch with him that much, the least he could do was pick up the phone and check no one had died.

The absolute worst time for the phone to ring was, in Race’s opinion, when he was comfortably lying on the sofa with Spot, blissfully ignoring any responsibilities.

The first two times the phone buzzed on the coffee table, they ignored it. But as the third ringtone started playing, Race sighed and untangled his legs from Spot’s. His fiancé just whined, only half awake, and tried to hold him tighter and stop him from moving. Race kissed his forehead and carefully sat up, letting Spot keep his arms wrapped around his waist. He could just about lean forward to reach his phone, his brow furrowing when he saw Sofia’s name on the caller ID. She never called. She texted him often, but she’d never phoned him.

“Sof?” He asked immediately after tapping the answer button. Spot just grumbled something about that girl always being inconvenient and curled around Race, burrowing his nose against the soft fabric of Race’s pyjama trousers at his hip.

‘Tony? I have to tell you something.” Sofia’s voice sounded small and apologetic.

Race’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles turning white. There was no good news that could possibly follow that sentence spoken in that tone. He unconsciously took Spot’s hand, squeezing it to reassure himself he wasn’t alone. Spot looked up, confused and worried. He sat up fast once he’d taken in Race’s pale face and fearful eyes.

Sofia took a deep breath before admitting to the reason she’d called.

“The birthday card you sent me. Spot signed it too.” She hesitated for a second. “And mum saw it.”

“Sofia, please, tell me you didn’t tell them. _Please_.” Desperation laced the words and his eyes were trained on the door, terrified his dad was about to storm through. If his parents found out about Spot, then they found out he was gay. And there was no way his father was about to let him get away with that.

Spot only had Race’s side of the conversation to go on so all he knew was that it didn’t sound good. He held Race’s spare hand in both of his, trying to diffuse reassurance and compassion into him. They were going to be okay, no matter what, and he wouldn’t let Race forget it.

“It had to tell her something, Tony. But I said he was your dog. And it was a pathetic attempt of yours to try and be cute.”

The explanation was the last thing Race expected to hear. He barked out a laugh of surprise and let himself relax a little. His dad wasn’t about to despise him for having a dog. Spot cocked his head, confused by Race’s sudden change of demeanour.

“And then she started asking me all kinds of questions about what breed of it was and shit like that,” Sofia continued. “I said I didn’t know so if she ever asks you please pick something a little obscure so I don’t look like an idiot for not knowing what a poodle is.”

“Oh he’s a mongrel, but I love him all the same.” Race smiled fondly at Spot, who still looked bemused by the whole situation.

Spot wasn’t sure whether to be offended that he was apparently being referred to as a dog, or to run his thumb over Race’s engagement ring the way he always did when he wanted to show his fiancé how much he loved him but the words were too overwhelming to use. He settled for tracing the ring and glaring, both at once.

Sofia just laughed over the line. “Sappy bastard.”

“Date someone for five years and try telling me you’re not in love,” Race shot back, before realising what he’d said and who he’d said it to. ‘No, actually, don’t. Fourteen year olds aren’t allowed to date.”

Spot laughed, pressing a kiss to Race’s neck as he continued to argue with his sister. It was easy to sense that that whatever tension there’d been was gone and their normal sibling conflict had returned to fill the void before anyone started to seamlessly get along with each other. Because heavens forbid that happened.

“I don’t think that’s a rule anywhere.” Sofia pointed out, as Race could almost see the glare and the eye rolling all the way from Brooklyn.

“It’s my rule: my fourteen-year-old sister is not allowed to date. Ever.” He almost growled the last word. He hadn’t been close to his sister for four years but now she was back in his life he was ready to be the protective older brother. Surprisingly, he _wanted_ to be that older brother. Sofia just laughed.

“There’s no way you weren’t dating aged fourteen.”

Race tripped over his words for a moment, trying to form a sensible argument before giving up and going with the tried and tested “that’s not the point.”

“Dating boys?” Sofia asked, like she hadn’t even heard Race speak. He hadn’t really told her much about his dating life other than Spot. There wasn’t an awful lot else to tell, only a few guys he’d fooled around with before he and Spot had gotten their shit together.

“Sofia!” he chastised. After all the questions she’d already asked that Race didn’t want to answer, Sofia had become an expert on working out the real answers from just his automatic responses.  
“Dating boys.” She confirmed, no doubt nodding to herself.

Race had pretty much come to the end of his patience for this conversation; partly because he could only take so much of Sofia at once, and partly because his fiancé was pressing warm kisses into his neck and that seemed to have far more interesting potential to be explored.

“Okay, you’re going now. Before you say something stupid and parents hear you.” He’d gotten used to not using pronouns with the word parents. ‘Your’ wasn’t right because whether or not he liked it, they were his genetic parents too. But he’d vowed that they weren’t his family any more when he’d walked out, and ‘our’ seemed to be going back on that.

“Fine,” Sofia huffed, hanging up without another word.

Race stared at the phone in his hand for a second before throwing it back onto the table. He settled himself back on the sofa, pushing Spot down so he could comfortably use him as a pillow, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Crisis averted?” Spot asked, rubbing his hand up and down Race’s back, snorting when Race just shushed him and burrowed further into his t-shirt.

Spot paused for a moment, debating whether or not it was worth voicing his opinions on what he was pretty sure Race’s conversation with Sofia had been about.

“Maybe you should just tell them? Your parents. About me.” There was a pregnant silence and Spot kept talking to fill it, trying to make everything a little more light-hearted. “I mean, Race, we’re engaged. Don’t you think they’d find out at the wedding that I’m not a woman?”

“They’re not invited to the wedding.” Race grumbled, before wrinkling his nose and raising his head to look Spot in the eyes. “We’re not even having an actual wedding.”

“Race-” Spot raised his hand to Race’s cheek, but he batted it away and glared.

“No, Spot. I’m not telling them. My dad would _not_ be okay.” He tried to force as much decisiveness into the words as possible.

‘Do you honestly think he would come all the way to Brooklyn to beat the crap out of you for being gay?” Spot asked, this time lifting his hand to Race’s hair. To the surprise of both of them, Race let him brush his fingertips through it.

Race sighed. He knew the answer, but he wanted it not to be true so much. He wanted to take Spot to the house in Long Island that he hadn’t thought of as home since he was ten, and introduce him to his parents without them getting angry that the person he was sharing his life, his happiness and his bed with was a man. Unfortunately, that was never going to happen.

“I _know_ he would come all the way to Brooklyn to beat the crap out of me for being gay.” Race answered, his voice a little shakier than he would like. Spot kissed his forehead and he took the courage it always gave him and translated it into more words. “And he won’t be kind to you, either, Spot. Don’t push this. I don’t want either of us to get hurt by him. I am out to everyone that matters. All our friends, Sofia, random people we pass on the street whilst holding hands. I’m not in the closet, I’m just being sensible. Yeah?”

Spot didn’t answer, instead pulling Race back down onto the sofa to reassume their interrupted quiet time. He wasn’t going to push Race to do anything. If he encouraged him to come out to his parents and that resulted in Race getting hurt, Spot would hate himself. Besides, they were hardly hiding, and they weren’t ashamed. They were safe and happy and it wasn’t like Race didn’t have ties to his family, now Sofia was around. Spot couldn’t ask for anything else.

 

When Sofia got a Christmas card from Race a few weeks later, Spot had signed it again in the corner. Except this time his scrawled name was accompanied by a tiny little paw print. Her parents couldn’t quite understand why she found it so funny, but it stayed pinned up on her noticeboard long after all the other holiday cards had been taken down.


End file.
